A Private Illusion
by Kiya Sama
Summary: Tyrion Lannister knows it's a terrible idea in the long (or short?) run, and yet with the unwanted help of a 'friend', he can come to appreciate the growing feelings between the bastard king and his dragon queen.


**Notes:** Ah, it's been ages since I wrote fanfiction, and here's my foray into Game of Thrones - a fandom I swore I'd never get into because I despise fantasy-related stories. How the tables have turned. I love this couple, and that was my only reason for getting into the show. Once I heard they were FINALLY getting together, I dived headlong into this with trepidation...and now I have no regrets! Hah!

Hope you enjoy the story and thanks so very much for stopping by to read *bows gratefully*

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An unsteady step matched an impromptu rocking of the ship, causing him to mumble a heated curse beneath his breath. This, of course, only did more to emphasize the nagging headache which had forced him to leave the confines of his warm (maybe _too_ warm) cabin to get some fresh air. He didn't think he was that drunk…yet, but then again, it was sometime in the wee hours of morning, and aside from a few loud snores from weary Dothraki and Unsullied guards –

 _Pfft! Guards,_ he snorted in silent derision.

\- he was quite content being the lone wanderer seeking much needed peace and quiet.

 _The calm before the storm, eh?_ He thought with slight bitterness and not without the familiar tinge of fear and concern to crawl down his spine.

He lumbered up the short flight of steps to the decks, wrapping the fur cloak tight around him.

There was no doubt they were now close to their destination. Nearly two weeks of drifting North had given them a chance to go from bearable cool to near-claustrophobic cold. It never failed to take his breath away; the immediate sensation of being hit with a slab of ice – though it appeared to be mere flurries at this point. Still, the air up here was a rather nice improvement from the pollution of the South – well Kings Landing to be exact. Hadn't the bastard king muttered something about 'too many people living in such a small place?' Well, what did he expect? Places like Kings Landing were indeed cesspools of sin and decadence and with it came the stench of degradation and imminent death, but up here…

(his gaze drifted to the largest moon he had ever seen – how breathtaking)

…up here it was different. One almost felt they were in a completely new world; one where nothing could harm you…well except, supposedly, over a hundred thousand undead soldiers, led by some omnipotent Night King, ready to wage war on humanity as they knew it. So yes, this was definitely a far cry from the last time he came North.

 _Time flies, eh?_ he thought with a slight chuckle as he climbed another short flight of steps to the topmost deck, where he was sure there would be fewer (if any) guards patrolling.

He tightened the cloak around him as the memories came flooding back; bitter snapshots of when he had felt he mattered – even if for a little bit – to a family so dysfunctional, they made the other Houses look like saints. His lips curved downward; his breath hitching as if struggling to gather air into his lungs. He did not want to think about it. He really didn't. That was a more naïve, though jaded, Tyrion Lannister. Today…today he was…

 _What am I exactly?_ he mused as his footsteps faltered. It wasn't the first time he had questioned his real motivations regarding this new phase of his life. It wasn't the first time he had stared morosely into the distance pondering on what was to happen if things were to go so dreadfully wrong. For the gods' sake, it kept him up at night so many times he had lost count –

 _Hmm?_

He stopped walking at the nearly inaudible sounds.

For a moment, he was sure it was just a trick of the wind, but as he strained to listen; there it was again, a breathless giggle accompanied by a low rumbling laugh soon punctuated with a telling silence and then muted conversation again.

Missandei and Grey Worm, he assumed for he could think of no other couple that would dare to display their affection for each other in public like this – though they did do a respectable job trying not to make it too obvious most of the time.

However, the same couldn't be said for _another_ budding couple; a troubling prospect he had tried so many other times not to think too much about. He knew every fiber of his being ought to cheer for their decision to become intimate, after all a successful military alliance between the two houses would make things so much easier for all of them. Yet with each passing day, with every heated stolen glance, with every subtle subtext in dialogues and distracted moments during council meetings, every hurried and ridiculous excuse those two could manage to blurt out before disappearing for seemingly hours on end - all were desperate warning cries to him.

So fine, she did not seem to take his advice any more, and was more likely to listen to the bastard king –

(and oh, how breathtaking and enamored she'd look then as she sought the Northern Fool's advice and how confident and regal he appeared to be when that happened)

Good god, they were insufferable at times.

So why couldn't he approach any closer?

Why did his feet seem stuck to the weathered decks as he noticed them sitting so close together on the narrow slab of wood, it was hard to tell where the young wolf started and the dragon queen ended? It appeared as if he had draped his heavy fur cloak around them both, for her head lay upon his shoulder as they continued to speak in a language only lovers were privy to. The brightness of the moon illuminated them in a surreal, almost ethereal glow, causing a not too unpleasant sensation in the pit of Tyrion's stomach.

A part of him knew it could be envy; that there were times when he wished he could have found someone who could truly care for him with no ulterior motives. However, the fear – oh that nagging fear - would simply not go away. It teased and taunted him incessantly, screaming that nothing good could really come out of this in the long run. All it would take was one wrong and rash decision and all their grand plans would have been for naught.

He really should say something to break the spell. He had to remind them (and not for the first time), that they really ought to –

"Warms the heart, doesn't it, my lord?" came the quiet voice from behind that could only belong to one person.

He should have jumped ten feet in the air at the sudden interruption, but when you've lived and traveled with someone like The Spider for so long, one simply got used to this unannounced presence.

He might have muttered something in response, and did not look around even as he felt Varys move silently to stand beside him. Together they studied the couple still lost in their world, both feeling as if they were being kept away by some invisible bubble neither would be able to burst anytime soon.

"It's not…right," Tyrion finally muttered as if desperate to give a reason for why he was lurking in the shadows in the first place. "Not now when we have so much at stake."

"Indeed, my lord," Varys agreed; his features as impassive as ever, though Tyrion was sure there was a hint of a smile there. One could never tell with him; the flitting shadows didn't help either.

"Well?" he eventually snapped with growing impatience. "Say what you want to say, Varys."

The eunuch's eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh please," Tyrion sneered, wishing – and not for the first time – for a cask of wine in his hand. His lips trembled with need. "You are going to tell me not to disturb them; to allow them their flights of fancy, to -"

"Guilt does have a way of eliciting the innermost thoughts of a man," Varys interrupted with a slight bow of his head. "I have given you no reason to think of that, but there you are…spilling it out like your head's about to explode."

Tyrion opened his mouth to protest, but at the queen's soft laughter again, both men stopped glaring at each other long enough to watch the couple engage in yet another tender moment. The snowflakes were still sparse, but it appeared some might have drifted unto the queen's face as the king leaned back to brush some off her nose; those normally brooding deep brown eyes now alight with an emotion both advisors would have been fools not to notice. When the queen reached up to reciprocate the gesture, her features so open and aglow with 'that emotion', soon compounded with the eventual communion of their lips in a languid kiss full of simmering passion -

"We are truly fucked," Tyrion groaned.

Varys chuckled and gave a light shrug. "Why, my lord? They are young and in love. It's a beautiful thing."

"Hm."

"Both have lived difficult and dangerous lives, and it is easy to forget that they are merely babies in a world so filled with death and destruction at every turn. Should we begrudge them for finally finding a moment they can call their own? I doubt either of them would have wanted their destinies -"

"We all have to make do with what Fate has thrust upon us," Tyrion grumbled. "I didn't have a rosy life either."

"Ah, but you were still allowed to make your mistakes and weren't held to such a high pedestal in your youth, my Lord," Varys reasoned; though his gaze was still trained on the couple now cuddling again. "Despite your so-called Fate, you still had an opportunity to shape your formative years. You frolicked, you loved, you lost, you did things even I can't mention, and you didn't have to answer to subjects or soldiers under your reign."

He nodded toward the couple. "When was the last time you heard the queen laugh or giggle like the girl she really is? Hmm? The façade of being royalty is one thing, and the mask can only stay on for so long, but I must confess…it is refreshing to see her as what she truly is again."

Tyrion's lips pursed. He hated whenever Varys was right, and this was no time to praise the other man for an insight he had already observed months ago.

Daenerys – for all her many rambling titles and accolades – was just a child in the grand scheme of things. So was the bastard King in the North, who had been forced to grow up just as fast in an unforgiving world. Jon Snow didn't wish for this life, and Tyrion was aware that beneath all the brooding and long stony silences was a passionate man who might wish to be nothing more than just a Northerner left alone to live the rest of his days in peace.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stiffened as the couple finally rose to their feet in unison.

Subconsciously, he and Varys hid closer to the shadows; though with the way the duo seemed so attuned to each other, they might have walked right over their unwelcome visitors without noticing. The king had a vice-like grip on his queen's hand as they walked; not down to the bowels of the ship yet, but toward the opposite decks, where his quiet voice was soon drowned out by the gust of wind.

Tyrion wasn't aware he had been holding his breath until they were completely out of sight.

He had never needed a drink so badly.

"…when they'll decide to make it public," Varys was saying as he plodded toward the just vacated spot of the couple.

"What was that?" Tyrion asked almost absently. He wanted to return to his cabin. He had seen enough for one night-morning-whatever.

"I asked when you think they'll finally decide to announce their relationship," Varys explained. "Though they've been doing a terrible job of it, but we must indulge them when the time comes, don't you think? Act as surprised as you can and all that." He chuckled at this joke, though Tyrion couldn't really find the humor in it. It would take all his acting skills not to make a smart remark when that time came, that was for sure.

"We should be at White Harbor in a day or two," he said aloud as he sat beside the other man. "So, I say…sometime before we make land? On the last day?"

"Care to wager on it being later _today_?" Varys taunted with a knowing smirk, and for the first time since he stepped outside to get some fresh air, Tyrion felt a little better about the whole mess. Oh, the fears and concern would come flooding back the moment he went back to his cabin, but for now-

"You are on, my lord," he remarked with a matching smirk as they shook hands. "I could use the extra money."

"To drink yourself into a stupor no doubt."

"Don't be a dick…well…don't be -"

"The joke's not worth it, my lord."

"Hmph."

They fell into companionable silence, broken only by the creaks and groans of the great vessel and the rumblings of soldiers preparing for a new day. For now, they could pretend to be the greatest of friends, trapped in a mutual need for stability in an otherwise chaotic world, but come the light of day, their harsh reality would shatter that illusion.

For though love might be a wonderful and joyous thing; they could not forget their duty and honor to a queen who was to claim her rightful throne even if it meant having to, eventually, break her ( _their_ ) heart.


End file.
